I Bless The Rains
by ktface3
Summary: With one spin of the globe, Jim chooses his travel destination, and no, it's not Australia. Written in present tense, first person, from his POV.
1. The Fate of One Spin

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not the characters, not the show itself… you get the picture._

_A/N: okay, so this story has been in my head for a while, but I haven't been desperate enough until now to start it. Basically, I'm tired of oneshots—although the ones I've been writing lately have been fun—and I've also wanted to try something AU for a while, so this is the effect of that._

_I'm pretty much the only one that would notice this and get excited about it: in Dwight's Speech when Jim spins the globe in Michael's office, he puts his finger on West Africa. That, coupled with my recent travels to the region, gave me inspiration for this. Please read, review, and enjoy!_

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She's stuffing envelopes with Kelly in the conference room, and I'm trying my best to ignore her. It's a hopeless cause to try and stop it, even though I told Toby it wasn't appropriate for her to do wedding stuff on office time. It's not like he has the balls to do anything about it anyway. And Michael and Dwight aren't here—I'm sure Dwight is making a fool of himself by now, reading that speech by Mussolini—so I can't say I blame her for taking advantage of the free time. She just… shouldn't she do that stuff at home? With her fiancée, who supposedly cares about her?

It was bad enough he didn't get her anything on Valentine's Day; even _I_ got her a card. What an idiot. When girls say they don't want big gifts, that doesn't mean to not get them _anything_. I wonder how he's gotten through so many years not realizing that it's little things like that that'll keep her happy. I guess he's managed this far, but only because _she'll_ deny herself anything to keep herself in this comfortable little bubble she's created. Far be it from me to burst it open; I've definitely made a bubble for myself as well.

I rub my eyes, which feel strained from staring at the computer screen, and decide to get up out of my seat. I don't know where to go though; my coffee cup is still full, and it's not like I can linger at reception, so I stand still at my desk, wondering where I should go.

Where should I go? I announced to the entire office like an idiot that I was going to take a trip somewhere, but I have no idea where to. Really, as long as it's far away from Pam and her wedding, I don't really care where I end up. And that's when I spot the globe in Michael's office. I decide then to leave it up to fate.

I approach the globe and stare at it for a moment, taking in the possibilities of going anywhere on the entire planet. It's exciting, and almost makes me feel as alive as I feel when I'm with her. I smile slightly, and give it a spin, and then I put my finger down on an arbitrary spot. I look closer at the country I just picked out for myself and consider the prospect, "Ghana…"

……………………………………..

"Wow, Africa! That's really exotic," she says to me as I tell her about my plans. After looking into the fated country I chose on the globe, I realize that it wouldn't be such an adjustment. It's stable politically, they speak English there, and it's certainly far enough away. I'll need to get about five different vaccines before I go, but if means getting out of what I'm sure would be the most painful day of my life, it's worth it.

"Yeah, I'm only _slightly_ worried about contracting malaria," I tell her and she smiles at my sarcastic joke, which makes my heart feel full. "But, other than that... um, yeah, I bought the ticket, non-refundable."

Her smile is radiant, and her eyes are full of curiosity. I can tell she's wishing she could just pick up and leave town, but I'd never call her out on it. "That's awesome," she tells me sincerely. "Where are you staying?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "I feel like I have plenty of time to figure out the details but... "

"When are you leaving?" she inquires between giggles, and I know this is the painful part. I know I'll be letting her down, but I just can't be here when she marries that dumbass.

"I'm... leaving on June eighth."

"Oh." She looks as if I've just broken her heart by not being able to go to her wedding. Little does she know she's already broken mine. I suddenly feel the need to apologize profusely.

"Yeah. And I'm really sorry about that, I just..." I realize I don't know how to finish that sentence, not without confessing everything at least, and so my voice trails off into nothingness. I try to smile, but it's no use.

The disappointment in her eyes is killing me, but I have nothing more I can say. Instead, she halfheartedly agrees with me, "Oh yeah. That's… too bad."

"Yeah…" I feel the awkward silence hang in the air before snapping back into my helpful, likeable self. "Do you want me to take these on my way out?" I ask. It's a lame attempt at making things right, but it'll do.

She shakes her head and tells me softly, "It's ok. I got it."

"Alright." I grab my coat off the rack and walk toward the door, feeling only slightly ashamed for doing this to her. I call back, "Later, Beesly." and she gives me a polite wave as I exit. I make it down the elevator and out into the chilly February air, and suddenly I can't help but think of how nice and warm it'll be in Ghana.

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_Obviously this is only the first chapter. Please review and let me know if you're interested in reading this, because I won't continue unless I get enough feedback. I can promise you that if I do continue, I will have some amazing stuff in store for him on his travels. Trust me. Now click that little box in the left-hand corner and write me a review!_


	2. Delirium

_A/N: I made it to my (secret) ransom of three reviews! Yay! I realize there may not be too many people reading yet, but the three of you who did review were very enthusiastic, so it definitely made me want to continue this. You three are amazing; the best reviewers of your generation, (lol) and so here's the next chapter for ya. Enjoy!_

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I'm feeling pretty woozy, but I don't really care. She's here with me. I still don't know why she volunteered to come along—we were just making small talk out on the ice rink when I mentioned I'd be getting my vaccines today—but I'm glad she's here. She's even taking notes! God, she's amazing.

I realize I've been staring at a random spot on the wall when I hear the doctor, a plump, blonde-haired woman who reminds me of my mother, call my name, "Mr. Halpert, the last thing you need is the typhoid vaccine. Now, since you needed doses of the adult polio and T-Dap vaccines, as well as the hepatitis A and yellow fever, it looks like you have no more room on your arms for any more shots!" She laughs heartily at her own joke, and I can hear Pam at my side laughing along. I try to look over at her, but I get dizzy with the slightest movement of my head, and so I stay stationary as I try to listen to what the doctor is saying.

"Now there is this new way to take the typhoid vaccine: you take it in pill form with lots of water every other day for four days. It is just as effective as the injection, and costs a lot less."

Pam nudges me and I straighten up as she jokes, "That'll be good considering our _wonderful_ insurance plan."

"Yeah," I nod slightly, trying not to fall off the examining table. I feel extremely dizzy and tired, like I'm about to pass out from all the new antibodies surging through my system, but I maintain my composure as the doctor has Pam look over all the details of the vaccine. I'm so glad she's here; I wouldn't be able to comprehend any of this, or drive myself home afterward.

"This looks good," Pam comments to me, and so I give her a smile and a thumbs up as I keep my eyes fixated on my arbitrary spot on the wall. I hope she realizes that I trust her implicitly; I think even if she told me rat poison was all right to drink, I'd drink it. "Okay, he'll take it," she laughs, and so the doctor fills out a prescription, one of several.

The doctor then tells us she needs to gather up some fliers about staying healthy while traveling, so she excuses herself and leaves the two of us alone. I can tell Pam is looking at me strangely, but I'm too lightheaded to care. I keep staring at my spot on the wall and tell her, "I feel really woozy…"

"Like how you do when you're drunk?" I can't look at her, but I can tell she's staring at me intently, trying to understand.

"No, like… like I'm going to pass out or something. This is not at all the fun kind of woozy."

She chuckles slightly and tries to lighten my mood, "No lowered inhibitions or anything?" Oh how I wish I had lowered inhibitions right now. I'd tell her right here how much she means to me.

"Nah, and besides, I've found that my inhibitions don't really lower that much when I'm drunk…"

She lets out a thoughtful, "Huh," and then I lose my balance for a split second. I catch myself before I fall off the table, but I can feel her warm hands grabbing me and helping to hold me upright, and it gives me goosebumps.

She lets go of me embarrassingly quickly though, and when she does it feels like someone is ripping a limb off of me. Some days I think it would just be easier to tell her how I feel, so we wouldn't have to keep putting up these friendly little appropriate physical barriers. At least I wouldn't have to live in a lie anymore. I look up and she has a concerned look on her face, and so I tell her, "I really need something to eat."

She bites her lower lip and looks at the time on her cell phone, and after a moment of thought she tells me, "We can get you something to eat afterward. I think she's almost done—" and as if on cue, the doctor comes back in with a large stack of fliers and pamphlets.

"How are we doing, Mr. Halpert?" she asks as she hands the papers to me. "That yellow fever shot is a real kicker, isn't it?" I nod, careful not to shake my head around too much, and she laughs, "You should take it easy for the next couple of hours. Probably can't go out and run a marathon this weekend or anything…" she glances at Pam and comments, "But hey, this is the perfect excuse for your wife to pamper you—"

"Oh, we're not—he's just… we're just friends," Pam is lightning-quick to correct her before the sentence is out of the doctor's mouth. I can't look at her, but I can tell she's uncomfortable. So am I. So is the doctor.

"My apologies…" she stammers. "There just… aren't too many friends who would go out of their way to come with someone to get their travel vaccines… and, take notes, and uh, be so supportive like that. It's refreshing to see." An eternity of an awkward silence passes between the three of us before the doctor speaks up again and addresses me, "Well, you have all your prescriptions… You can always call my office if you have any questions."

I shake her hand and Pam helps me off the table, her warm touch making me tingle all over. I can barely walk anyway, but I still milk it to my advantage as she tries to keep me standing. I put the charges for the vaccines on my credit card and she takes me to her car, her arm around me the whole way. She warns me, "Now, I probably can't carry you, so please don't pass out right here in the parking lot."

"I won't…" I assure her, and she stuffs me into the passenger's seat. She then runs around to the driver's side and gets in.

"Seatbelt," she reminds me like a mother would to a child, and so I grab the belt lethargically and pull it across my chest. Then she smiles at me and asks, "What do you want to eat?"

"Sixty-nine Cup of Noodles…" I murmur, and she laughs.

She pulls out of the parking lot and suggests, "How about Wendy's?" I give her another thumbs up and we're on our way.

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_You know the drill. Make me proud, soldier._


	3. Packing and A Cappella

_A/N: this is the last chapter of prep, you guys, I swear. Trust me, there is a _lot_ of prep that goes into a trip like this, and plus I had to establish all kinds of character development stuff, blah blah blah… you'll see when you read it. And in this chapter you finally find out what the title of the fic means! Exciting stuff. So please remember to read, review, and enjoy!_

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"So, Big Tuna, how do you feel about abandoning your troops after only a month of working here?" Andy interrogates me with wide, piercing eyes. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'll break down from the guilt of leaving them and he'll try to weasel his way into my job, but that's not happening.

I look at him with a smirk on my face, "Well, I put the paperwork through for a vacation _before_ I transferred branches, so I don't feel too bad about it…"

He nods at me knowingly, "I see how it is. You're one of _those_ guys, aren't you?"

"What guys?"

"Andy, leave him alone," Karen reprimands him with a scowl, but he brushes her off.

He leans in and tells me, "You're one of those lone wolves. You act like you don't care what anybody thinks, and so you do your own _thang_. Like with this vacation. You're going to Ghana cause you think it's all cool and global to go somewhere where no one else has ever gone before."

I shake my head, "I assure you, Andy, that is not the reason." I pause for a second and think about the real reason I'm going so far away, and then I snap back into the moment, "And I'm pretty sure other people have been there before me. In fact, I'm pretty sure lots of people actually live there…"

"Whatever, man." He turns back around and gets back to his work, and I stare out the window at the bay, my thoughts occupied with the fact that Stamford doesn't feel quite far away enough yet. She's getting married in three days, and with each passing day, the urge to get the hell out of here—out of the northeast, out of the U.S.—grows more and more.

Out of everything I'm feeling though—grief, embarrassment, misery—the one I feel the most consumed by is helplessness. I put it all on the line and told her I loved her, and that still didn't change the fact that she was going to marry Roy. Confessing my feelings didn't do a damn thing, and it made me feel worthless. I even kissed her, but not even that seemed to matter to her. She thought I was drunk. I thought I had told her before that I didn't have lowered inhibitions when I was drunk. I did it completely in my right mind, exposing my entire self to her, and she still shot me down. That made me not want to care about her as much.

It made the transfer that much easier though. I called Jan the next day and had her speed up the process so I could be out of there and away from her as soon as possible. I could hardly look at her as I packed up my desk with Michael lying on the floor, bawling his eyes out. He made me hug everyone goodbye, and when it came to her turn, I had to make it quick or else I'd lose it in front of everyone, or worse, I'd feel the urge to kiss her again. She barely had her arms around me before I was letting go.

That wasn't the note I wanted to leave things on, but it was just too painful to end it any other way. The worst thing is that part of me still wants to go back for her—like storm in on the wedding and yell 'I object!' or something… but I just don't feel like it'll do any good. I'd only end up making a bigger ass of myself, and I doubt her answer to me would change anyway.

I'm trying not to think about it now. I'm trying to think of new beginnings, like with my trip. I think it'll help me get out of my own little world, out my own little bubble, and will put this whole damned thing in perspective. That's what I'm hoping, anyway.

I look at the clock and realize it's only 11:30, and so I sigh and get back to wrapping up some paperwork. I won't be able to get to the internet for the next ten days, so I may as well try to finish whatever I need to before I go. I hear Andy start to sing, softly at first, but as the a cappella rhythm grows, I recognize it:

_Da-da, da-da, da-da-da daa…_

I smile slightly and shake my head. It amazes me how Andy knows every song for the right occasion. Even if he doesn't really know it yet, he's singing the anthem of my trip:

_It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you,_

_There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do…_

_I bless the rains down in Africa;_

_Gonna take some time to do the things we never had…_

With one final aching thought of dragging myself away from Pam, I dive back into my work and hope the hours pass quickly.

………………………………………………….

Passport? Check.

Vaccination card? Check.

Plane tickets? Bug spray? Cash? Check. Man, this is a lot of stuff to pack. I didn't realize there would be so much; my duffel bag is packed to the brim. My plane leaves in three hours, so I'm doing the final check around my apartment to see if I forgot anything. It's a good thing I am, because I just found my razor in my bathroom. I zip up my bag and am ready to head out when I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. Probably my reminder I set to turn it off and leave it here; not like I can use it in Africa.

_Pam's Cell._

What? Why is she calling? Doesn't she realize I'm leaving? Like, so I can try to forget about her and move on? And it's two days before her wedding; shouldn't she be getting ready for that, or having a bachelorette party or something? I look down at my phone again as these thought race through my head and then make up my mind about whether to answer or not.

She broke my heart, and so now it's time for her to feel some remorse. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing she can say to make me change my mind. I don't know if she realizes this, but it's useless to try and reconcile things when I'm still sore about what happened between us. And I know this might make things worse, but I am just in no mood to try and work this out now. I have a plane to catch.

With one swift movement, I open my phone and hit 'ignore.'

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_You know what to do!_


	4. Distractions

_A/N: man, I did not realize I would worry you all so much with the ending to my last chapter! It's not like I'm going to leave it like that or anything… maybe for a couple more chapters. I do have a plan though, so just hang in there and enjoy this one, okay? It's pretty funny if I do say so myself._

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I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. I'm in Africa. It's hot in my hotel room, and there's a big ceiling fan up above me, but it's off. Weird. I thought I had turned it on last night when I got in… guess not. The light is streaming through the curtains, and so I check my watch for the time. I then sit up straight; it can't be that late in the afternoon! Then I realize I forgot to set it back five hours; it's 10:30 am.

Last night was a blur. I spend 16 hours in the air, and one of my flights was a redeye, so I'm pretty sure I lost a day… or, gained a day. Not sure which. I arrived fairly early in the evening, but it was already dark outside, so I didn't even get a good look around. I did notice a few things though, like the heat.

When I stepped off the plane, the heat hit me like a wave, and I haven't been really comfortable since. Even at night it is sweltering, and any breeze I get is hot air, so I think I've sweat more in the past twelve hours than I ever have in my life. That's definitely why I thought I turned the fan on, just to get some circulation going, but maybe I didn't.

The first thing I did after going through customs was exchange some of my money, and that felt really cool to change two hundred dollars into one-point-eight million Ghanaian cedis. I do realize it's still the same amount of money, but I can't help but feel a little like a pimp now that I'm a millionaire. I also felt pretty cool walking out of the airport, because there were people swarming the outside of it waiting for loved ones or calling out to people like they were celebrities. Lots of drivers wanted me to ride in their taxi, which was a little overwhelming to have all of them vying for my attention, but I ended up going with the first guy who offered me a ride.

"_This is your first time in Ghana?" he asks me as I sit scrunched up in the back seat of his taxi. I can't help but notice there are no seatbelts and the speedometer doesn't work, and this guy is flying down the expressway and honking at cars to move out of the way. I am now legitimately scared that he will crash into something._

"_Uh, yep." I respond, clutching onto whatever I can and bracing myself._

"_You like it?"_

"_Oh, uh, I don't know. I haven't seen too much of it…" I look out the window and watch our taxi pass by rows of palm trees, and for a second I forget I'm in Africa. It's so tropical here… I guess I thought it would be mostly dirt and grassland, but everything looks really lush and beautiful. I can't wait to see it in the light of day._

"_Where are you from?" the taxi driver asks as he honks to change lanes._

"_What's that? Oh, um, America."_

_The driver lets out an impressed, "Ohhh," and then tells me he has a daughter that I should marry and take back to America with him. I try to laugh it off and then realize he's not joking; luckily we arrive at the hotel just in time for me to get out of that conversation._

"_How much do I owe you?" I ask him and he thinks for a moment._

"_Sixty thousand," he tells me, and so after figuring out that that's about six dollars, I shrug and pull out three bills worth twenty thousand each and hand it to him. "I will see you again soon, my friend," he tells me, and so I wave politely and walk into the hotel to check in._

I grab the large bottle of water by my bed and gulp it down; I already feel somewhat dehydrated, and so I know those huge bottles of water will be lifesavers. I then look around my room a bit more. There's a desk and a big armoire near the window, as well as a nightstand and my twin-sized bed which is entirely too small for me. There's a connecting bathroom near the front door, but it hardly looked like anything special when I peeked in there last night, and—holy crap, a dead cockroach.

There is a dead cockroach on its back in the middle of the floor of my room. I feel paralyzed with fear that it'll not be dead and turn back over, so I keep my eyes on it as I compulsively shake the bed sheets, praying that there aren't any more of them to be discovered. That's when I notice the roach killing spray on the desk, and so with out hesitation I grab it and spray the bejesus out of the dead bug. If it wasn't dead already, it's definitely dead now.

I feel a little like Dwight standing over it with my insect killer in hand, and it makes me wonder if he ever wished for a spray that could just make _me_ shrivel up and die.

I get dressed and decide to go down to the restaurant I saw in the hotel lobby to see if I can get some breakfast, but they tell me breakfast is only served till ten, so I look at the menu for lunch. Nothing looks—or smells—appetizing. I'm especially put off by the fact that they don't identify what kind of meat they're serving with their traditional dishes. It just says 'meat.' Maybe I'll be more adventurous as my trip goes on, but for now, I would love something familiar.

I exit the restaurant and then spot a bar a little ways away that looks open and has a menu board outside of its doors. This looks promising: burgers, chicken, nachos… talk about familiar. I go in and sit myself down at the bar, and pretty soon a guy comes over to take my order.

"Hello my friend, what can I get you?" the bartender smiles and whips out a notepad. This guy looks about my age and seems very friendly, but polite. He certainly isn't clamoring for my attention like those taxi drivers were last night, and then I realize he probably deals with foreigners all the time working in this westernized bar. It's a nice change; he's downright reserved comparatively.

"Um, a burger would be great," I tell him, and so he writes my order down and gets back to serving other customers. Soon he's back over my way, so I manage to get his attention, "Uh, sorry, do you have anything like grape soda?"

"We have Fanta," he tells me and pulls out a glass bottle from a refrigerator behind him. It's purple, it's carbonated, and it looks fine to me, so I tell him I'll take it. Then suddenly the electricity shuts off. The bartender doesn't look phased.

"Hey, what's going on?" I ask him and he smiles at me.

The power comes back on for a split second before shutting back down again, and he explains to me, "Our generator is shit."

"Generator?"

"Yes. Ghana is in an energy crisis, so they shut off the power every two days for twelve hours at a time." Oh. Well, that explains why my ceiling fan wasn't on this morning. He continues, "We have a generator to keep the hotel going, but it doesn't work well, as you can see."

"Yeah…"

"My name is Ben," he extends his hand to me and we shake. "Are you in the hotel?"

The generator kicks back on and I smile at him, "Yeah. Just checked in last night. I'm Jim."

"Jim…" he pronounces my name like it's spelled with two e's instead of an i. I can't help but find it amusing. "You here on business, Jim?"

"No, just… vacation…" I don't feel quite comfortable telling him the real reason I'm here. He'll probably think it's silly that I just left my travel plans up to fate and have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here, much less what I'm searching for or want to get out of this whole thing. He looks at me skeptically, and so I shrug and give him a lopsided smile. This makes him laugh.

"Well Jim, you picked a good place to vacation. Ghana is a rich and wonderful nation, where even the poorest of people are kind to you. You will like it."

"I'm sure I will."

"You have a guide here?"

"Uh, not really…"

He smirks at me confidently, "Then I will be your guide. And when you go home, you can take me back with you. Where are you from?"

"America…"

"Ohh, very nice. I would like to go to America with you."

"Oh, uh… Nah."

"Someday."

"Maybe."

He laughs, "Maybe." and then goes back to his work. I'm beginning to sense a pattern in the people I meet. Maybe I shouldn't tell them I'm American.

I take a sip of my Fanta and contemplate the last twelve or so hours: with cockroaches and electricity shutting off and the intense heat, I don't really know if this is what I signed up for, but I suppose it's better than the alternative. At least all these things keep my mind preoccupied instead of thinking of the one thing I'd really like to forget, so that's a big plus.

My lunch arrives, and so I start to eat. Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's because I haven't had any food since I was on the airplane, or maybe it's just because I've smelled the alternative, but this is the best burger I've ever had. I can tell I'll be frequenting this bar a lot.

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_Review alerts in my inbox make me happy…_


	5. By Foot or Trotro

_A/N: so, a lot of you seem to be a tad bit confused, and maybe that was my fault. Did I ever say this was going to be a _total_ Jam story? Cause I thought I was careful not to say that. No, if you haven't figured out already, this story is centered around our man "finding himself" (like he said he wanted to in The Client) through his travels. Are his feelings for Pam an integral part of that? Well, sure. But don't expect me to tell you what I have up my sleeve in terms of getting them together. For now you'll just have to read, review, and enjoy!_

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Ben tells me there's a big market about a couple blocks away, so I'm headed there now to check it out. It's amazing; the sun actually _feels_ closer to the earth here than it does in Pennsylvania. I know that's not actually true, but I can barely look up into the sky without being blinded. It's high noon, and I am glad I remembered my water bottle.

I don't manage to get anywhere too fast though, because every other person on the street stops me and wants to talk. Everyone is impressed by my height, even though I've seen some pretty tall Ghanaians around, and they all want to know where I'm from. I've been telling them places like Canada, Sri Lanka, Serbia… I told one guy I was from Japan, but I don't think he believed me. They all call me 'obruni' too; I'll have to ask Ben what that means when I get back.

It feels like I've been walking for forever when I finally come across the market. It looks like a madhouse: people are everywhere, swarming different booths and making loud conversation, and there's a ton of vans everywhere too. I think this is also some kind of bus depot or something, but it's not like anything I've ever seen. I make my way through the crowds, taking in the sights and smells, and soon I come to a guy selling handkerchiefs. I decide to buy a couple, just because I can't stand the sweat on my face any longer.

"Hi," I walk up to him and he smiles at me.

"Ahh, obruni, you want some handkerchiefs? Very good to keep the sweat off your face and neck."

"Yeah, uh, how much are they?"

He feigns thinking for a moment, "Ah, for you, obruni, I'll give you three for twenty thousand. Best deal you'll find in the market." I look at him skeptically and remember my conversation with Ben at lunch:

_He's laughing at me, and I can't say I don't feel a little confused. All I told him was I paid sixty thousand for my cab ride last night. "Oh Jim," he regains his composure and sucks his teeth, a sound of disapproval, "You always bargain. They will tell you a price that's three times as much because you are foreign."_

"_Wait, so I could've paid twenty thousand for my cab ride last night, and I paid sixty?" the realization his me like a truck, and now I'm pretty embarrassed._

"_You did it all wrong. Negotiate _before_ you get in the cab, and always tell them a low price. They will say it's no good, but if you start to walk away they will take it. Do the same with art dealers and people in the marketplace; people are desperate to make a sale."_

_I smile at Ben and tell him, "Thanks," and he gives me a knowing nod. I can't believe how helpful he's being; not even the bartenders at Poor Richard's back home are this friendly. Not even some of my _friends_ back home are this friendly. We make plans to go out that night, because he wants to take me to a great club he knows of that's right on the beach. I'm not sure at first, but he insists I go with him, so I finally give in. At least it'll be cool to see the other side of the Atlantic Ocean._

"I'll buy three for ten," I tell the man confidently, and he makes the sucking through his teeth noise in response.

He shakes his head, "That is no good, brother. It has to be twenty."

"No, ten," I tell him again.

"How about fifteen?" he asks, and so I wave him off and start to walk away, but he follows me. "Okay, okay, I can see you want a good deal. Three for ten thousand."

"Deal." I hand him a bill worth ten thousand cedis and he lets me pick out three handkerchiefs. We shake hands and part ways, and I smile to myself as I walk through the masses of people. I can't help but identify with all the dealers here in the marketplace; just because I make my sales over the phone and they make theirs in a big crowd, does that mean we're so different?

I try to picture myself with a huge bag on my back peddling reams of paper here, but somehow that thought just seems silly. I'll stick to the phones.

I get back to my hotel room, sweating through my clothes, and so I decide I need a shower before I go out tonight. Just my luck though, I didn't realize I had to turn on the water heater in order to have a hot shower. The water is frigid, but I live through it just because the temperature outside is so hot, so the first few minutes are a relief. Then I start shivering, so I wash up quickly and get out as fast as I can.

I also have to reapply sunscreen and bug spray so I don't get eaten alive by mosquitoes. I'm glad I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff at home except for in summer, and even then I'm not nearly as conscious of it. I feel like I'm constantly protecting myself from the elements here, and it makes me wonder how the natives do it every day. It's a huge pain in the ass.

I meet Ben outside the hotel just as the sun is going down, and he tells me we're taking a trotro to the beach. I shrug and follow him to what looks like a bus stop, and soon those vans I saw in the marketplace are pulling up with people shouting names of different routes. We get on one called Lapaz.

People are crammed into the vans, and just my luck, I'm in the very back row of seats, under a wheel, squished up next to Ben. I hug my knees to my chest and try to look comfortable, and Ben starts laughing at me.

"You okay there, brother?" he asks me in between chuckles.

I shift in my seat, trying and failing to find a more comfortable position. "I'm alright." I tell him, and then I make sure to ask, "How far away is it?"

"Not far," he says. "If you're feeling nauseous, you should look out the window. That helps."

"Thanks." We smile politely at each other and then I turn to the window and try not to pay attention to how hot or uncomfortable I am, or how unsafe I feel. This old, beat-up van feels like it's going to fall apart at any second.

Instead I look out the window at the people going by: women with bowls on their heads selling food and water, little shops set up on the side of the road, and sometimes entire families out begging for food or money. It makes me cringe to see the littlest children begging, and it makes me think of the Africa I always see on TV back home with the kids playing in the dirt.

Then I realize: sure, there are people here like that, who spend their life begging and actually need help. But that's not everyone. It's really only a fraction of people, not unlike in America, and so I take solace in the fact that I know not everyone here is suffering and in poverty. And even if they are, they don't seem to bitch about it like so many Americans do. They just make the best of what they've been given. I think if we had something like an energy crisis in the U.S., people wouldn't stand for their electricity being turned off for twelve hours at a time every two days. But here, they seem to have a real sense of doing something for the greater good, instead of for their own selfish purposes. It's very honorable.

My mind then jumps to some of the more selfish choices I've made lately, moving to Stamford to get out of watching Pam get married being the biggest. I feel like a coward for running away like that, especially cause she didn't even have a minute to just _think_ about what I was telling her. I'm starting to believe telling her like that was selfish too.

My thoughts are jarred by Ben patting me on the shoulder and telling me we're here, so we climb over the other passengers and get out of the van. We walk for a little while away from the road and make small talk.

"Hey Ben, what does obruni mean?"

"Obruni?" he repeats my question as he leads me down a dirt road with little shacks set up along it. "That means, white person, or foreigner."

"Oh…" silence falls on our walk, and I look around at people in the shacks making meals or doing laundry before another thought hits me. "Is that an insult?"

Ben laughs, "No, no. Just an observation." I start to fall behind, distracted by trying to take in everything I'm seeing, and soon he has to turn back and tell me, "Come on, the beach is down here." He leads me down a dusty path until finally, we come to it. The ocean. It's sunset, and I don't remember ever seeing a scene so beautiful.

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_You've read this far into the story, so you may as well drop me a review._


	6. The Southern Seas

_Mid-story disclaimer: everyone knows I still don't own The Office or its characters? Good. Just makin sure._

_A/N: so this one is a little shorter, but it's kinda revelational (yep, totally just made that word up), and it's got a lot of… guy love? Lol, just think of it as a guy's night out, or GNO, if you will. You'll see what I mean soon enough. Enjoy!_

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Ben and I sit at the bar for a while and watch people dance to highlife music, which he tells me is basically the pop music of West Africa. It's pleasant, but for some reason I just can't keep my eyes off the water. It's so mesmerizing and peaceful. The sun has just escaped over the break between the land and the sea, and it's weird to think we're facing south. If I were to get on a boat and sail straight down, the next continent I would reach is Antarctica.

Ben nudges me with his elbow and motions to the sand, and so we take our Star beers and begin to walk along the beach. After a while of comfortable silence, he starts up a conversation, "So tell me about America. Do you have a job?"

"Yep. Uh, I sell paper, and other office supplies, to companies."

"Paper?" he asks incredulously, and that's when I remember that 'salesman' doesn't exactly mean the same thing here as it does there. In America if I tell people I sell paper, they know immediately to think of an office supplier. Everyone needs paper; they don't give my job a second thought. Ben might.

"Yeah…" I trail off, unable to sufficiently defend my job title. Instead I tell him, "It's pretty boring."

"Do you bargain?"

I should've known he'd have a hard time picturing it. I try to explain, "Not really. Uh, sometimes we'll give the customer a discount, but no, normally it's just a fixed price."

"Oh… So you work in a market?" he asks, still trying to make sense of my ridiculous occupation. I can't help but chuckle inwardly at his confusion.

"No, actually, I do most of my business over the phone…" I try to lighten the mood and tell him, "I'm thinking about suggesting that marketplace idea to my bosses though. I think they'd be open to that… It would certainly make things more interesting."

"I'm beginning to think you don't like your job…" he comments to me as he takes a sip of his beer, a smirk on his face. He doesn't seem to realize that my career choice actually _is_ somewhat of a depressing topic, as much as I've tried to make it sound remotely appealing.

"It's fine I guess. It's not really what I want to be doing with my life," I say, almost surprising myself with my remark. It makes me stop in my tracks, sending my mind into a tailspin, and makes me wonder why I even took that promotion in Stamford, other than to get away from Pam. I had no interest whatsoever in moving up in the company, regardless of the pay being significantly better. And being the likeable, helpful guy I've been to Josh will only inevitably push me up in the ranks.

I vaguely remember saying something about throwing myself in front of a train if that ever happened, and now I'm feeling the extreme urge to do just that.

I need to quit my job when I get back.

I turn back to Ben, who has been staring at me attentively, trying to understand why I wouldn't do a job that makes me happy, and it makes me feel like an idiot. I can really only think of one thing in my life back home that could make me happy at this point, but the thought of trying to get her makes my stomach churn. I take another sip of my beer and decide to lay it all on him, "I don't _really_ want to be working there… and I guess I just figured that out, now that my only real reason to stay there is for the pay…"

"What was keeping you there before?" He's picked up on my grim tone. Here we go…

I take another swig of my beer and ask him rhetorically, a knowing tone in my voice, "What else would keep a guy in a dead-end job?"

"Ahh, I see…" He gets it, and he lets me know that he does by giving me a fraternal pat on my shoulder. "She worked with you?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to her?"

I then realize I haven't really told anyone the full story, not even my mom. Not honestly, like with all my feelings just out there. Maybe it's that Ben is so removed from my world, but I feel strangely at peace with telling him this. I sigh, "She got married. Married to a jackass… even though I told her how I felt about her. I kissed her even, and that didn't make her change her mind…"

"You must not be a very good kisser," he jokes, trying to make me laugh. It does a little.

"Heh. Yeah, well, I even moved so I wouldn't have to see her every day. It was too painful to watch her get married to this other guy…"

Our conversation trails off for a moment before Ben asks me what I already knew was coming. "Do you love her still?"

"I hate to admit it, but yeah."

In that moment, as I acknowledge that I am still in love with her, despite my best efforts not to be, I accept my defeat. I know I'll probably be miserable forever, but standing on the beach right now it doesn't seem too painful. I'm sure when I get home it'll hit me hard.

"Why? Why do you hate to admit it?" Ben asks. Huh, didn't expect that question. I have to think for a moment about why I feel so ashamed.

"I just feel like I should be moving on or something… but I just, _can't_, for some reason…"

Then Ben looks over at me, seriousness in his eyes, "Jim, do you know the old Akan proverb: odo nnyew fie kwan?"

I shake my head, "Can't say I do."

"It means, 'love never loses its way home.' If you and her are meant to be together, then you will be somehow." He looks down at the sand, and what he says next surprises me, "You and I are in the same boat, Jim. I met a beautiful American woman named Tamika when she was here six months ago. I fell in love with her, and she fell for me too, but she had to go back to America…" I can tell he's getting emotional, but I can't look away. It's like watching the same pathetic, despondent, yet African version of myself. It's kinda weird.

He looks up at me, "Did that stop me though? No way. I told her how much she meant to me, and I gave her my email address, and now we email all the time. We talk on the phone too sometimes, although it's expensive… But I am even planning a trip to see her."

"That's great," I manage to choke out, saliva catching in my throat. I can't begin to comprehend the wealth of respect I have for this guy right now. Instead of running or trying to push away what he was feeling and be practical, he went after what he wanted head-on. And it sounds like soon he'll get to be with her. I can't say I'll be as lucky in my own situation.

Ben however, is much more optimistic, "So you see, love never loses its way home. Soon enough I will be with the woman I love, and so shall you." He smiles at me and we realize just how far away we've gotten from the club, so we turn back around.

"I hope so," I whisper as I take one last longing look into the ocean.

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_Like it? Just an fyi for those who haven't figured it out, I have in fact been to Ghana. I went last summer. And Ben and Tamika are actually real people! She was a friend of mine on my trip and he was (is) a bartender at a sports bar we frequented during our stay. I exaggerated their whirlwind romance a little though, just because I can. :) Review please!_

_OMG SEASON FINALE TONIGHT!_


	7. Coconuts at Cape Coast

_A/N: did people forget about this story? I sure hope not! Sorry for the long wait on an update guys! Summer classes are kicking my ass, and so I barely have any time to write for pleasure anymore, if the short nature of this chapter isn't an indicator of that already. I promise there's still plenty to come, so if you stick with me I won't disappoint. Enjoy!_

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The last few days feel like one big blur to me. I feel like every day I am just trying to get through the day, and not in a way like I'm bored. It's more like I set out to go somewhere or do something, and it takes me the whole day to do it. I'm literally trying to survive out there in the heat and the bugs and people constantly wanting to talk to me.

It seems kinda wussy to think about it that way, but that's really how it is.

Yesterday I visited the art and cultural museum in Accra. I set out at 10:30 in the morning and didn't arrive back to my hotel until after dark. It was mostly because I got on the wrong trotro and ended up in a neighborhood called Tema, which was a half hour out of my way, but eventually I got there. Then I learned that when they say 'art museum', they mean art market.

There are rows upon rows of shops set up in this market, which is bigger than any of the other markets I've seen, and each and every shop owner calls me 'brother' and wants me to look at what he's made. The funniest part is that practically all the shops have the same stuff, but every shop owner acts like his is the best, even though the guy next to him has identical tapestries and figurines.

Everything is dirt-cheap too, especially since Ben taught me how to bargain. It's the same kind of feeling I get when I would tell Michael 'no' to something, like when he used to bug me about hanging out with him on weekends. I don't feel bad necessarily, to tell him no. I just know what I want and he has to deal with it. At least the shop owners handle my rejections a little better than Michael does, and they'll actually negotiate with me too.

I ended up coming back from the art market with a ton of stuff: some wooden masks and statues, a couple small brass figurines, some jewelry made of glass beads, which I figure my mom will like, kente cloth, which is cloth woven into colorful patterns, and a soccer ("football") jersey for the Ghana Black Stars. They apparently just won the West African championships or something. I also got a painting of women carrying bowls on their heads without using their hands for balance. It's so cool how they can do that, and I think whenever I see that painting I'll be reminded of this place.

Right now, I'm on my way to spend a couple nights in Cape Coast, which is about four hours away from Accra. I'm taking a trotro there, but luckily I got shotgun, so not only am I not squished but I also have an awesome view. Outside of the dusty city it's mostly a lot of trees and plant life, but there are little villages we pass during the drive. The houses—if you can even call them that—that we drive by are astounding. A lot of them are smaller than Michael's office, and I don't think I've seen one that has electricity or running water.

It makes me feel spoiled. And guilty.

I know there are homeless people in the US. Heck, I think Creed used to be one of them! But you never see them when you're driving around downtown Scranton. They aren't constantly stopping you on the streets asking for money or food, and if they do, you tell them to go to a soup kitchen or homeless shelter. It doesn't seem like there's anything like that here, just because of the sheer volume of people it would have to serve.

People seem to get by here though, and I think it's because they take care of each other a lot better than we do in America. Michael always talked about how we were a family—a work family—and so we should look out for each other. But I never really understood that until now, when I see people who barely know each other taking care of each other, through making a deal at the market or watching each other's kids or even making meals for the whole community. It makes me think that Michael would really like it here.

…………………………………………………..

I must've dozed off, because the driver is shaking me and telling me to get out of the car. We must be in Cape Coast. The trotro is stopped in front of a big building which looks like a school, so I ask the driver where the Coconut Grove resort is. He points up a dirt path and so I start walking, passing by fields of overgrown grass and shacks with children playing outside.

Ben recommended this hotel to me. He says it's one of the best in Ghana, and certainly the best in Cape Coast. It's amazing how nice he's been; he works full-time and then spends his free time with me, showing me around and telling me all about life here. I've learned a lot from him, and it makes me want to share what I've been learning. Maybe I'll try to find an internet café or something soon and let everyone back home know I'm alive.

I finally make it to a gate, and so I push it open and unexpectedly step into paradise. What was overgrown grass has turned into a well-manicured landscape, complete with coconut trees, strategically placed shrubs, and an ocean view to top it off. There are bungalows everywhere around the grounds, and they all have a very Westernized look to them. I feel like maybe I'm in the Bahamas or something, but definitely not Africa. After I catch my breath from the sight, I notice a bungalow marked 'lobby', and so I walk over to it to check-in.

…………………………………………………..

My hotel room is the single most amazing thing I've seen on this trip. The Coconut Grove is like a little oasis in the middle of a desert. The bathroom is immaculate, and has granite flooring, a shower big enough for ten, and a toilet I'm not afraid to sit on. The bed is also huge, a welcome change from that single I was sleeping in at the hotel in Accra. There's even a TV! I think I may have died and gone to heaven.

I flop down on the bed, still sleepy from my catnap in the trotro, and I let my mind wander. I wish Pam were here. If this place is inspiring to me, then she would be on sensory overload. I can just picture the two of us on the beach or in the little shore side restaurant… or just in bed all day.

I wonder if Roy picked anywhere as nice as this for he and Pam to spend their honeymoon. I overheard her talking one time about Hawaii, but I doubt he'd want to go there. Hawaii doesn't seem like a very Roy kind of place.

I wonder if she even thinks about me anymore, now that she's a newlywed.

I sit up in bed, determined not to think about things that depress me like that. Not while I'm in the single-greatest place in Africa. No, I'm going to go enjoy myself, and I think what would be enjoyable now is a good meal and watching the waves crash on the shore. Without much hesitation, I get up and walk down the path to the restaurant to do just that.

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_I know, kind of a filler chapter, but what did you think of it anyway?_


	8. Crossing Bridges

_A/N: hey kids, here's another chapter! (Up much quicker than the last one!... That's what she said.) I think this is one of my favorites so far, and I hope you like it too! Don't hate me for the ending though. Enjoy!_

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Last night really felt like I was back at home. I had _real_ spaghetti for dinner, with sauce made from tomatoes instead of just peppers, which is what they like to call spaghetti sauce everywhere else in Ghana. Everywhere else, they lie. The stuff with tomatoes is real.

I also took a shower with decent water pressure and a warm temperature for the entire time. Not even my showerhead back home has good pressure like that, so it was definitely a pleasant surprise. And then I turn on the TV, and find Jon Stewart! Turns out he does a "global version" of The Daily Show. Who knew?

After a relaxing evening at the Coconut Grove, I am ready again for adventure. I'm heading out now to go to the Kakum National Park, which the hotel bellboy recommended to me for something fun to do. He says they have these rope bridges there that are suspended over the jungle, which sounds like an opportunity I can't pass up.

It takes a while of driving over bumpy roads and through villages until I get there, and it doesn't even look like much when the taxi pulls up, but I'm optimistic. If the locals say this is a good attraction, then there has to be something to it.

I check myself in and get assigned to go with a group of about fifty middle school-aged girls, all of whom think I'm cute and want their picture taken with me. It's a little embarrassing, especially when they all want to touch my hair and skin. Their teacher, Solomon, tells me they're just curious about how soft my hair is compared to theirs. I can understand that, but really, is touching it necessary?

I try to be polite and stand with them for pictures, and pretty soon a guide comes and tells us we have to hike to get to the bridges, so the girls, Solomon, and myself head out into the woods.

"How did you get to be so tall?" a girl tugs on my arm and asks, and so I smile at her.

I reply, "Well, my dad is really tall, so I got it from him I guess."

"Your dad must be taller than the trees!" another girl chimes in as she steps up and starts walking beside me. Soon a couple more girls follow suit and are all chattering about me all at once. I can barely get a word in with their talking, and the worst part is they switched to their native tongue, so I can't even understand what they're saying anymore.

"What are your names?" I try to ask above their conversation, and the girls smile and giggle. The one who tugged on my arm is named Doris, and the other ones are Aisha, Henrietta, and Ivy. Ivy and Doris are definitely the more outgoing ones, but all of them seem curious about me and where I'm from.

"What is America like?"

"Uh, colder, like we have snow for a lot of the year… have you guys seen snow?"

"I saw it in a movie! It looked very pretty."

"It is; snow can be a lot of fun."

"Do you play games in America?"

"Uh, I play basketball—"

"What day were you born?"

"Oh, um, October 20th." The girls giggle at this and I don't really know why.

"No no," Henrietta smiles and shakes her head at me, "What day of the week were you born?"

I remember my mom telling me years ago about when I was born. Her water broke at a Halloween party, and so she had to come to the hospital on a Friday night in her costume, which was a nun's outfit. I asked her why in the world she would dress up as a pregnant nun, but she just threw a dishtowel at me and said she was going for irony. She spent "36 excruciating hours in labor", and I was born on the night of the next day, a Saturday.

"Saturday," I tell them, and they all look at each other and giggle.

Ivy lets me in on the joke, "That means your birth name is Kwame."

"Really?"

"Yes. When a child is born, they aren't named right away, and so the family calls the baby the name associated with each day of the week. The male name for Saturday is Kwame, and it means 'peaceful.'"

"I'd say that's pretty accurate," I nod approvingly at them and the girls giggle some more.

"Will you take us back to America with you?" Doris asks, and the rest of the girls are quick to begin pleading with me.

I shake my head and tell them, "I think your parents would miss you…" and they try to protest, but before we can carry on our conversation, we realize we've hiked to the top of a hill and are looking out at a large valley of tropical forest. Our guide instructs us to secure any loose belongings like sunglasses or hats, and then one by one he sends out on the bridges.

The bridges are nothing like I expected. I imagined they would look like those ones you always see in movies with flimsy rope and several wooden planks lined up one after the other. These rope bridges have reinforced steel cables and netting; they kind of look like long hammocks… if the hammocks were a hundred feet off the ground.

It isn't long before I hear the girls start screaming on the bridges. It's hard to tell if they're excited or scared, but some definitely look like they're having fun. They're even trying to scare Solomon a little by rocking the bridge he's on back and forth! Poor guy.

Pretty soon it gets to be my turn, and so I take one step onto the single, long, wooden plank that people use to walk on, and begin to cross the first bridge. It isn't so bad until I get past a couple trees and notice just how high up I actually am. Looking down makes me nauseous, and so I keep my eyes focused on the tree in front of me that the bridge is connected to. Once I'm there, I breathe a huge sigh of relief.

That's when I remember I have my camera, and so I get it from my pocket and start taking pictures. The views are breathtaking; we are literally in the tops of the trees, and I have a tremendous view of the skyline meeting the forest from where I'm standing. I even take a picture of down below, although I don't look in my viewfinder for that. I just aim the camera downward and press the button.

I then hand the camera off to Solomon, who is resting after being jostled around by his students, and he gets one of me crossing the next bridge. The girls on the bridge are much nicer to him this time around, I think because they know he has my camera in his hands, and when we get to the next tree I get one of him and a few of his students.

By the time I get to the last bridge, my nerves are frazzled. Some of the girls I met on the hike up thought it would be funny to wobble the bridge while we were crossing, and so that made me start to shake a little involuntarily. As I step off the last bridge and back onto solid ground, I feel my knees give out a bit from under me, and I have to work to be able to stand up straight. Then I look back at the bridges I just walked across.

Wow, I did that.

I feel so exhilarated after that, like I'm so lucky to be alive and here and getting the chance to cross these bridges. I feel like I can accomplish anything now, which is a huge improvement from a few nights ago when I thought my world was going down the drain.

I'm convinced even more now that I need to find a new job, and I'm confident that I can find something I can enjoy. It doesn't even have to be in Stamford, it can be anywhere and anything. The possibilities are endless.

Right now, I feel like I could even make things back to normal with Pam. I think as long as she's happy with Roy, I'm happy for her. I'll have to put her on my list of people to email when I send everyone an update of how I'm doing here; that will be a step in the right direction.

As we get back to the bottom of the hill, we see a man selling fresh fruit: coconuts, watermelon, and plantains. So far on my trip I haven't touched any fruit, but right now that watermelon looks so good, and so I buy a slice from him. It's so juicy and ripe, and really hits the spot in this hot sun. I'm finished with it before I make it back to the parking lot to catch a cab. I say goodbye to Solomon and the girls, and negotiate a price with the taxi driver back to my hotel.

I don't know if it's the bumpy ride home, something funny that was in the watermelon, or the fact that those bridges made me so nervous, but I am not feeling very well at all. I know we're getting close to the Coconut Grove, but I'm getting worse and worse by the minute, and so eventually I have to tell the driver to pull over. He does, and I immediately run out of the car and hurl into an open sewer.

There goes my watermelon.

I stand hunched over for a while after that, still not feeling the best, but good enough to ride the rest of the way back. My stomach is still churning though, and so as soon as I get into my room, I rush to my immaculately clean bathroom and crouch over the toilet. I throw up two more times before thinking of taking my medication for traveler's diarrhea, which is suppose to cure any digestive problems I may be having.

As soon as I take one, I am out like a light on the bathroom floor.

* * *

_A few clarifying things: yes, I actually did the rope bridges, and yes, I did get sick on my trip like Jim did, and so I know for a fact that those traveler's diarrhea pills make you drowsy. Yes, drowsy enough to fall asleep immediately after taking one. They're crazy. Also, that thing with the names and days of the week is a real thing (and I just used JKras' real birthday… does Jim have a specified birthday on the show?). Anyway, I looked it up, and he really was born on a Saturday. Ladies, add that to your mental list of facts about him. And, just like with Ben, all the people with names in this chapter are real people I met. Whew!_

_If you tell me what day of the week you were born on, I can tell you what your African birth name is! If that doesn't get you to write me a review, I don't know what will._


	9. On My Way

_A/N: I am extremely excited about this chapter! (That's why I got it written so fast!) I have been planning this from the beginning, and I am even more excited about the way it turned out. I think you all are going to like it very much. Please read, review, and enjoy!_

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I wake up in a haze, my eyes having trouble opening because they feel so heavy. The light is streaming through the singular window in the bathroom, and the tile floor is cold where my body wasn't lying. It's a hot one today, so the cool tile feels nice on my palms as I pick myself up. My stomach only hurts a little bit, but I think it's mostly from hunger.

I wonder what time it is.

I stumble into the bedroom to grab my watch off the nightstand. 7:30 AM? Wow, I slept for over 12 hours. No wonder I feel more hungry than nauseous. I'm also noticing I'm incredibly sore from sleeping on the bathroom floor. I haven't done that since my housemates and I would have keggers in college. Never thought I'd be doing something like that ever again.

After freshening up a bit, I walk down the path to the restaurant, where they're serving a complimentary breakfast. I take three different kinds of pastries, but avoid the fruit altogether; my stomach churns just looking at it. I eat slowly at first, and when I don't feel my breakfast turning on me I eat a little faster.

I am _really_ hungry, and these croissants and sugar bagels are really hitting the spot. I'm sure I look like a madman scarfing them down.

Before I know it, my plate is empty, and so I sit there and digest, watching the waves. I think after my adventure yesterday, I'm going to forgo anything I was planning for today and hang around the hotel. They have a freshwater pool I haven't taken advantage of yet, and I think they have a place to get on the internet. I'm sure my mom is freaking out by now, wondering if I'm okay, so I decide I need to do that first. A waiter takes my plate away and I thank him, and then I walk from the restaurant to the lobby, in search of electronic civilization.

The receptionist in the lobby points me to a room off to the side near the gift shop, and so I peak my head in and sure enough, there are three computers set up for guests to use. I sit down at one and open up Internet Explorer.

Wow, the internet is slow. Painfully slow. It takes a good minute or so to pull up the main page, and then another three or four minutes just to get to my email, but finally I get there and log in.

Fifteen new emails. Didn't realize I was so popular. Hmm, emails about work… client, client, old client from Scranton—didn't I give that account to Phyllis? Spam. Spam. Email from Mom, spam, one from Jon, one from Michael, one from—

One from Pam. No subject. Dated June 10.

Why would she send me an email on the day of her wedding?

I can't say I'm not very intrigued, but I'm also scared shitless. What could she possibly want from me? Or rather, what could be so urgent that she would write to me on the day of her wedding?

Too many questions, all of which could probably be answered by clicking on the email.

I'm a dumbass sometimes.

_From: Pam Beesly_

_Subject: no subject_

_Date: June 10, 2006, 10:24 am_

_To: Jim Halpert_

_Hey Jim,_

_I tried calling and then I remembered you're probably on your trip by now, so I don't exactly know when you'll read this, but… I'm not marrying Roy._

Oh my God.

_I did a lot of thinking after you left, and I guess I realized how bad I had let things get with him, and so I just had to get out. I don't think I really was in love with him anymore, at least not the way I'm starting to think about love… Wow, I'm like, shaking as I'm writing this, it's so scary._

That makes two of us.

_I think I might be in love with you too._

Holy shit.

_I know this took me way too long to figure out, but I hope I'm not too late. If you want to just forget about me then that's fine, I understand. I'll just take the hint if I don't hear back from you. But if you do want to talk or something, then let me know. I'll be waiting._

_Love, Pam_

_P.S. Thanks for everything._

I can feel my palms getting sweaty as they grip the mouse and the side of the desk, and for once I know it's not because of the temperature. I read and reread her message over and over, checking and double-checking to make sure it's real. To make sure she's not pulling the greatest prank of all time on me. I do a search of my inbox and find that she didn't send any other emails, but her name is mentioned in the email Michael sent:

_From: Michael Scott_

_Subject: Get me Bono's autograph! Kelly says get her Angelina's too._

_Date: June 13, 2006, 2:36 pm_

_To: Jim Halpert_

_Hey Jim-bean!_

_Hope you haven't died yet out there in the deep dark jungles of Africa yet! Seen any topless natives? Oh, speaking of which, Pam called off her wedding. I asked and asked about it, but she wouldn't tell me any details. I think it's cause the sex got boring. I offered her my Kama Sutra book, but she didn't seem interested. Oh well. More for me and Carol! Did I mention I was dating her now? And seeing Jan on the side… mostly at work…_

He doesn't make mention of her again in his email, which is about the length of a page and is all one excruciatingly long paragraph, so I don't bother to read the rest. His ramblings are enough to convince me that her email is in fact real, and that only heightens the urge to get to her as soon as humanly possible. I'm not supposed to leave Ghana for another four days, but right now I could care less about cutting my trip short.

As Dwight would say, this takes priority.

I open another window, careful not to close her email to me, and begin looking up a flight out of here. However bothered I was by the slow modem before is multiplied infinite times now that I absolutely need to be as quick as possible. I should know by now that nothing ever happens very fast in Ghana.

I manage to find a flight leaving tonight, and so I book it without checking the price or the airline I'm traveling on. All I know is if it'll take me home, I need to be on it. I copy down the information I need and then click back to my email. I need to respond to her.

_From: Jim Halpert_

_Subject: Re: no subject_

_Date: June 16, 2006, 9:12 am_

_To: Pam Beesly_

_Pam,_

_I'm supposed to be in Ghana until the 20th, but I'm coming home tonight instead. Or, I guess it'll be tomorrow morning when I finally get there. I want to see you. I'm flying into JFK on Delta flight 2307, and it arrives in New York at 6:30 AM. I can understand if you can't do this on such short notice, but I would love if you met me at the airport. The sooner I get to see you, the better._

_Love, Jim_

I hit send and log out of my email, not bothering to check anything else. I need to get home. I can hear those words in my head as my feet crash along the pavement as I rush to my room. I need to see her. I shove my clothes into my duffel bag. She's in love with me. I dash back to the lobby and check out, and then find a taxi outside that will take me to a trotro station.

Damn. It's going to be almost 24 hours before I _actually_ get to see her.

I think about taking one of those travelers' diarrhea pills to knock me out again so the time flies by, but I know that it probably wouldn't be good to take them when I don't actually have anything wrong with me. Instead I sit in the taxi, and soon enough a trotro, and watch us pass by trees and villages, my head spinning with how quickly things changed.

_Love never loses its way home._

I hope she doesn't respond to my email saying she can't meet me, because I won't have any way of checking it before I arrive in New York. There were several flights flying back home on the route I took over here: up through Europe—London, Amsterdam, Frankfurt—and then over to the states. But I managed to get lucky and find a flight that goes directly from Accra to New York. It's a redeye, it's way more expensive, and my car is parked in the Philly airport, but in the scheme of things, it won't really matter. Well, it will if I'm stranded in New York…

I can't believe she called off her wedding. It must've only been hours after I had left, maybe even before… Oh God, her phone call! She was probably calling to tell me she had called off her wedding, and I ignored her like an idiot! I could've been with her a week ago, but instead I traveled halfway around the world and got sunburned and bitten by mosquitoes!… And, did a lot of cool stuff too, I guess.

I met lots of friendly people, Ben in particular, and I adapted to living in this world, which took a lot of time. I learned a lot, mostly about the culture here, and it made me think about my own life back home. I realized I didn't have to be stuck in a dead-end job, and I realized it wouldn't be the end of the world if Pam didn't love me.

I am sure glad she does though.

Bottom line, I set out to do something—to travel and find myself—and I did it. I did it through walking in the market and drinking beers on the beach. I did it by interacting with people and crossing rope bridges. I found me, and going back now, I'm more confident than ever of what I want and how I'll get it.

I want her by my side.

I want a job that makes me feel fulfilled.

I want adventure every once in a while, like what I had here.

It never would've happened if I had stayed at home. I still may have been mad at her, or I still would've thought I was only good enough to be a salesman. I never would've met all these cool people, and I certainly would still be living in my own little bubble. I'm grateful that my world has expanded to include this place, and as I get off my last trotro and walk up to my hotel in Accra, I realize I owe Ben a tremendous thank you.

I find him in the bar, restocking the refrigerators with beer. "Hey bother," hey gives me a smile, "I thought you were in Cape Coast until tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm actually cutting my trip short. I'm going back to the states tonight."

He looks disappointed for a moment before laughing, "Can't take the heat anymore?"

"No no, nothing like that," I chuckle. "It's just… I got an email from that girl."

"Oh, the one who got married?"

"Yeah, well, turns out she didn't get married. She said she did some thinking after I left, and she wants to see me."

He smiles, "Sounds like you made more of an impact than you thought you did."

"Yeah…" I sigh as I look down at the floor. I hadn't thought about it like that. I did feel so worthless after she turned me down, but now I feel overjoyed by the fact that she wants me, loves me, needs to see me. I can almost feel the appreciation I have for her swelling and bubbling over. I look up at Ben, "So hey, when you come to the states, will you give me a call?"

"Count on it, my friend."

I give him my contact information and we wish each other well, and then I go to my hotel room to pack up. My plane leaves in a few hours, but the wait to get home will feel like decades.

* * *

_There's only two chapters left you guys! Very sad. But did you not get super excited by this one? Will Pam meet Jim in New York?? Only I know the answer, but you will find out soon enough! Just write me those reviews that make me so happy and I can guarantee you another chapter soon!_


	10. Finally Home

_A/N: here's the next chapter!! I actually had a lot of it written already, but at the last minute I decided to add the last part, and now I love it even more!! (Squee!) Go read, review, and enjoy!_

* * *

My iPod just died. Great. Still three hours to go too, and the movie they're showing is Wimbledon. I'm sure I would be able to find it entertaining in another time and place, but right now I am too uncomfortable and anxious to concentrate on it.

I reek to high heaven.

I'm familiar with the stench. It's what Ghana smells like, and after being there a while, you can't smell it anymore. But as soon as you get back on a plane and you're in a pressurized cabin, you begin to realize you smell like a combination of food in the market, dirt, and sweat.

I don't want to have to be in close proximity with Pam after this. She's nice and probably won't say anything, but I know for a fact that she and I always made fun of Michael's coffee breath. She would definitely notice the stink of freshly-caught fish and peppers baking in the equatorial sun.

What the hell am I going to say to her? Right now it's almost impossible to even picture her face; I'm exhausted from this flight and my stomach is still a little sensitive from the food poisoning and my head is spinning from leaving so fast. It barely seems real that I'll be seeing her so soon, and that she actually _wants_ to see me.

I stretch out my legs as much as possible, trying not to get them in the way of the aisle, and close my eyes. I need to just stop thinking. When I see her, I'm sure I'll just find the right words.

……………………………………….

I let out a huge yawn as I wait in the US customs line. It's about 6:45 in the morning, and I didn't get anything amounting to decent sleep on the plane. The two thoughts bouncing back and forth in my brain are if Pam is here and how good it is to be home. Maybe it's just the strict customs line, but there's an air of formality that I never felt in Ghana. I loved how friendly everyone was there, but sometimes I just wanted to be left alone, and talk to people only when I need to. That's how things have been operating since we touched down, and it feels great.

I love America.

The officer waves me forward and asks me if I brought home any living organisms or illegal substances. I wipe my face in an attempt to wake myself up, and then I tell him no and give him a lazy smile. He's tired too, luckily, and so he gives me the OK and doesn't bother me with a random bag check.

I push my way through the doors and suddenly I feel much more awake. I glance all around for her, and then glance back again. No Pam. I should've known better. Why would she waste her time coming to pick me up? All the way in New York, no less—

"Jim!"

That's my name.

I glance in the direction I hear the shouts coming from, and there she is, walking briskly down the long corridor. I don't think I've ever been happier to see another person in my entire life. She waves at me, a huge smile across her face, and without even needing to think, my feet are taking me to her.

We reach each other and without a word, we embrace. It's a friendly hug, but I can feel both of us are hesitant to let go. Eventually we do, and as I look down at her, I make no attempt to wipe the grin from my face.

"It's so good to see you," she says finally, after what feels like ages of the two of us standing in the corridor, staring at each other, with travelers passing by and looking at us like we're from another planet.

"You too," I respond softly as I watch her chew on her bottom lip. It's a nervous habit of hers, and I have missed it so much in the month or so I haven't seen her. I'm content to just stare at her for ages, but then I realize I probably need to initiate a conversation. I need to say something. Anything, really, as long as they're words. I of course, decide to tease her, "So wait, when exactly did you have to get up to drive all the way down here?"

She shakes her head at me, trying and failing to conceal a smile, and she finally answers, "Um… three…"

"AM?"

"Yeah…"

I hold my hand up for a high five and she slaps it with her own. I comment to her, "That is dedication, Beesly," and she laughs at my lame joke. We make our way to her car, and I can feel the bit of tension that hangs in the air as we put on our "just friends" faces and act cordial. I know we have a lot to talk about, but right now is just not the time

"So where do you wanna go?" she asks as I put my bag in the trunk of her car. We exchange a smile, and it's almost as if she knows the answer to her own question. I'm going wherever she's going. But instead I decide to humor her and think of the place I'd like most to go next.

"McDonald's."

"Seriously? Fast food? It's 7AM."

I give her a look as if to say, _shame on you,_ and she laughs as we buckle our seatbelts, "That means we are just in time for a delicious breakfast of hotcakes and egg McMuffins. Trust me, this is quality dining compared to some of the stuff I saw over there."

Her eyes light up as she remembers why she was picking me up from the airport in the first place, "Oh yeah! Tell me all about your trip!" She pulls onto the road, and I start the story of my journey from the beginning.

……………………………………….

"Hi Josh," I knock on my boss' door and he waves me in.

"Hey Jim, welcome back. How was your trip?"

I sit down and feign a smile, "It was great… Uh, but, I had a lot of time to think, and… I've decided to quit and move back to Scranton."

"Oh." Josh looks a little shocked and disappointed, but he takes my two-week notice with stoicism. "Any particular reason?"

I stammer for a moment and think about all the reasons I'm leaving. Pam, of course, is that the forefront of my motivations, but it's so much more than that. I'm slowly but surely approaching thirty, and in a job I don't really care for, to put it nicely. I know I could be successful here, but I will kick myself if I reach the top of the corporate ladder and realize I hate what I'm doing.

"Just—personal issues," I manage to come up with as an excuse, and Josh nods his head in understanding.

He leans in, "Andy?"

"No, no," I chuckle and Josh gives me a small smirk. "I just don't know if paper is really my calling."

"Well that's fair," he nods and extends his hand. "I'll let Jan know, and Sue in HR will take care of the necessary paperwork for you."

"Thanks." We shake hands and I leave his office. Andy and Karen are looking at me incredulously as I sit down at my desk; they were obviously eavesdropping.

"You're really out of here, Tuna?" Andy furrows his eyebrows at me.

I nod, "Yep. Going back to Scranton."

"We'll miss you," Karen offers with a small smile and then looks back behind me. I turn to see what she's glaring at and see Andy barely keeping composure.

He sucks in a breath and wags his finger, "I'm gonna miss you man… I wanna keep in touch."

"Okay."

"I knew you shouldn't have gone on this trip. You had all kinds of _revelations"_ he emphasizes in a condescending tone, "and stuff, and now you're leaving—" He takes a Kleenex and blows his nose loudly, and Karen and I exchange a judgmental glance.

"Yeah… You're right I guess. I did figure a lot of stuff out while I was over there… But you're welcome to visit Scranton—"

Andy scoffs at me, disgusted with the idea, and turns back around. Not really wanting to push the issue, I shrug my shoulders and get back to my paperwork. Then I hear the ding of my computer that tells me I have a new email. I look up and click on the message:

_From: Pam Beesly_

_Subject: no subject_

_Date: June 19, 2006, 8:56 am_

_To: Jim Halpert_

_Already found some want ads in this morning's newspaper that I think you should interview for! There's one that especially looks good; it's in an advertising agency. Don't tell me you're not creative enough to work there either! Who thinks to put a coworker's stuff in jello just to annoy them?? Seriously._

_Everyone loves the brass figurine you gave me! It's sitting right next to my jellybean jar, and I already got so many compliments on it. Michael is a little sad you didn't get him anything, but he'll get over it. And Dwight actually knew what it was! He says it's a tribal symbol of the power of love, which makes me wonder if you knew that when you gave it to me… hmm… ;)_

_Counting the hours until you're back here,_

_Pam_

I realize I can't wipe the stupid smirk from my face, as much as I may try. That's when I decide: now that I have her, I am not ever letting her go.

On my lunch break I resolve to go buy her an engagement ring.

* * *

_Ta-freakin-da! The next chapter is going to be a little epilogue, and will be Jam-packed! What did you all think of this chapter?? I'm excited to hear what you all thought about the resolution. Write me a review please!!_


	11. A Second Look

_A/N: epilogue is here!! Yay!! I hope you all enjoyed the story, and for those who were a tad disappointed by the lack of Jam fluffiness (heck, even I was a little disappointed by it sometimes), this chapter more than makes up for it. You've been warned, people! Please remember to read, review, and enjoy!_

* * *

Coming back here feels like I am suddenly whole again. Even though I had a new job and a new woman to love, I always felt like I had left a piece of myself back here. This place made such an impact on me, and so to be back in the heat and the bugs, it's a reminder of what exactly made me have this whole new outlook on my life.

It makes me thankful.

It's been wonderful seeing Pam discover it all with fresh eyes. Sure, I told her lots of stories, but I don't think she actually understood until she stepped off the plane and felt the heat. We've only been here a few hours, but she seems almost mesmerized by all the new things to see and learn about. She's been pointing out trees and houses on the side of the road to me for at least the last half hour or so. I'm glad, because it makes the trotro ride that much more bearable.

"Oh my gosh, look!" she smacks me on the arm and points out the left side of the van. Sure enough, there's the ocean, not too far away from the road. "Are we getting close?"

"Calm down, five year old version of Pam," I nudge her in the ribs and she laughs at me. "We're almost there."

The trotro takes a turn off the highway, and soon we're parked in front of a school. We get out and collect our bags, and start walking down a familiar path, passing overgrown grass and young children playing outside their houses. The sun is just setting, and I can feel Pam getting anxious; she probably didn't realize we'd have to do a little walking after all the riding in planes and trotros that we did today.

She starts to fall a little behind, and so I take one of her bags from her and mock her a bit, "Come on, slowpoke, we're almost to the gate." We exchange a smile and reach the gate, and when I open it for her, her audible gasp sends shivers down my spine.

"Oh my God, this is so beautiful!" she tells me almost in a whisper, as if the sight has taken her breath away. I look out at the well-manicured lawn and the freshwater pool, and then back down at her, my new wife, who I'm sure thinks that this is a mirage or something, and I physically cannot contain my joy. I quickly bend down and sweep her up in a deep kiss.

"Come on, let's go check-in," I tell her after our lips part, and she sheepishly nods her head to follow me to the lobby. A bellboy takes our bags and escorts us to the honeymoon suite, which is much larger than the other hotel rooms. It has a balcony that faces the ocean, and as soon as she gets in the door, Pam is headed straight for it.

I join her after I get things squared away with the bellboy, and she turns to me with an enormous smile on her face. "I gotta admit, I was a little skeptical about going to Africa for our honeymoon…"

"And…?"

"I was wrong. This is amazing... Like paradise."

"Yeah…" It is paradise. I had thought that the first time I came here, after feeling the urge to escape the country and then feeling the urge to escape the dusty city. This felt like finding a sanctuary in the middle of turmoil. Now, being here is just one more thing I can add to my list of what makes my life perfect. I start to grin, "Wait, you were _wrong_ about something?"

She smiles at me and shakes her head, "Shut up."

"No, I mean, I just thought that never happened—"

"I hate you," she teases as she gives me a playful smack on my arm, but I grab her hand and pull her in for a kiss. Her arms wrap around my neck as she melts into me, and I can't seem to form any other thought except for how truly blissful this feels.

We pull apart and I look into her eyes, radiant and sparkling from the setting sun. I brush a few stray hairs from her face and whisper, "And I love you."

* * *

_First, a GARGANTUAN thanks (that's right, I pulled out the big words for this) to my chapter-by-chapter reviewers: Abyssion, MrsBigTuna, tophetangel, henantz, LoveMeSomeJAM, hanakinstarbuck, lanmwolf, lulupanda, Bears Eat Beets, fresh42jazz, Ghostly Green, JB, Shaneener, and crystal.elements!! You guys and your too-kind words were what really motivated me to keep this story going. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me, and letting me share my own experiences (through Jim) with you. If you ever get the opportunity to go to Africa, I hope you take it and discover for yourself what an amazing place it is._

_Next, a preview of what's to come: I loved having a lot of freedom with the characters in this story, and so I'll be branching out even further in my next one! I've got a new story in the works that's a complete and total AU, and I'll be posting the first chapter soon. Hope you'll come along for the ride on that one with me!_

_Lastly, as my customary way to end my multi-chapter stories, "Peace and joy be with you, harmony and wisdom." Later, skaters!_


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